


I Don't Know You

by WildBlueSonder



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And gets to be a badass rebellion general, F/M, Padme Lives, also i am aware of how anakin's suit works, and i don't give a shit, it's kinda like the parent trap, my rules now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2019-10-13 05:11:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17481839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildBlueSonder/pseuds/WildBlueSonder
Summary: based on this post: http://starsofyesteryear.tumblr.com/post/181448015486/au-where-padme-lives-and-raises-her-two-childrenI just wanted to see this be real.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> idk man i don't even write.

Padme Amidala’s first thought upon waking is _cold._

Her second is _ow, my neck_.

That triggers a flood of memories, and she bolts upright, heaving ragged breaths. Her head spins from the sudden movement, and a familiar bearded face swims into view.

“Shh, it’s all right, you’re all right”

“Obi-Wan?” She blinks, vision becoming clearer. The Jedi smiles back, but that does nothing to stop the wave of panic that rolls over her. “Luke. Leia.” She crushes Obi-Wan’s hand in her own, suddenly spurred into action. “Where are they?”

“Hey, hey. Padme, calm down. They’re safe.” Obi Wan’s voice is soothing, and she immediately suspects a touch of a mind trick. “They’re in the other cabin, fast asleep.”

“Other cabin?” Only now does she realize that the bed she’s in is a shabby ship’s bunk. “Where are we?”

Obi-Wan sighs. “I suppose you have quite a few questions…”

—

Anakin awakens to the smell of his own burning flesh, but no heat.

A dull pain thuds through what Palpatine tells him is left of his body. He’s left alone to examine the armored suit, curling his fingers into fists under the shiny black gloves. One thought pounds through his helmeted head, in time with his shaky, hoarse breaths.

_She’s dead._

_She’s dead._

_She’s dead._

_You killed her._

He isn’t allowed more than an hour to grieve before they send a droid to collect him. He nods, rises, and follows, steps falling much louder with the heavy black boots. Still, with every footfall, those few words embed themselves deeper into his mind.

_She’s dead._

_She’s dead._

_She’s dead._

_You killed her._

—

Obi-Wan leaves her alone after breaking the news, and only then does Padme allow herself to bury her head in her hands and sob. Her husband — or the man that had replaced him — was dead, mutilated and burned to ash on a perpetually burning planet. She had given birth on the edge of death, had been smuggled out of Polis Massa on a tiny cargo ship thanks to Obi-Wan and his mastery of Jedi compartmentalization skills. The man she loved was lost to the dark side, and then lost entirely. She weeps, though she hates the orange-eyed impostor that had looked at her without empathy, had used his power against her without consideration. Anakin Skywalker may be dead, but her husband was dead long before he fell to the fire.

The former queen refuses to allow herself to revert to the simpering, pleading girl that begged for her life on Mustafar. She rises soon after, stumbling to the door with weak, unbalanced steps, wandering down the corridor with one hand on the wall. She finds her way to a second cabin, where, upon pushing open the door, she sees Obi-Wan standing over a crib. He doesn’t react when she enters the room and stands beside him. Together, they stare down at the sleeping twins in both wonder and shock, processing the day’s events. Obi-Wan is the first to break the silence.

“Owen and Beru Lars are willing to take Luke. Bail Organa says he can—“

“I’m sorry, what?” She turns to glare at him, and he nearly recoils. “Take Luke where?”

“To Tatooine.” Obi-Wan won’t meet her eyes. “We need to hide them, keep them safe from Palpatine.”

“They’ll be perfectly safe with me.” Her tone has a sense of finality strong enough to make the Jedi wince.

“Padme, he’s calling himself the emperor. It won’t be long before he finds the resources to track them down.”

“Then we’ll all go into hiding together. I’m their mother. They stay with me.” She hisses, just quiet enough to keep from waking the twins. The argument continues until Obi-Wan grudgingly agrees, on the condition that he chooses their hiding place; an old, forgotten military base on Yavin 4. He leaves to set their course, leaving Padme to watch over her children, still sound asleep.

“Hello, darlings,” She sighs, unsure of her next words. “Things are a mess. But you and me, we’re going to figure it out. We’re a team now, you understand? We’re going to make it through this.” Neither twin indicates that they’ve understood a thing, but Luke shifts in his sleep, which Padme takes to be a rousing cry of support. The ship speed on into the endless expanse of stars, while one young mother looks out and sets her eyes toward the farthest star in the distance.

“We’re going to make it. I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll update


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh, god, another one.

Years pass, and Vader’s grief fades. There’s simply no place for it in the new order he and Palpatine are building, certainly not with the burgeoning resentment toward their establishment. Palpatine seems to sense his moments of weakness, when Padme’s voice echoes in his head and he swears he can feel her presence in the Force. On those days, Vader can’t help but search for her ghost over his shoulder, knowing full well that she won’t be there.

Palpatine sends him to handle a group of disobedient officers one day, eleven years later, and when seeing them gasping for breath puts a bad taste in his mouth, he returns to his room in a quiet rage. He rips the helmet off the moment the door clicks shut, dropping onto the bunk with a thud. The room gleams in black chrome, the same as the suit, and for a moment, he’s twenty-three, mangled, hating all of it all over again.

Long hours in the meditation chamber have healed some of the burns, that’s apparent in his reflection. Scars still maul his skin, now pale white from years under the mask. Hair has begun to grow again in patches, color unchanged from the sandy brown it always was, back when he was Anakin Skywalker. His eyes, however, still burn orange, a reminder that Skywalker died on Mustafar.

That thought comforts Vader enough to lift the helmet back over his scarred features. There’s an issue with one of the one of the more resistant planets to handle, a new rebel leader Palpatine had trusted him to squash. Once more, he wishes for Padme, for her diplomatic experience, her brilliance. She’d be proud to see what they’ve built, proud of the era of peace they’re unfolding. Vader chases that thought away before Palpatine senses it and leaves the chamber, determined to quash the rebellion on Alderaan.

—

Years pass, and Padme’s little family never stays in the same place long. They establish the base on Yavin 4, but leave before the twins can walk. They flee Tatooine after only a year, but Obi-Wan insists on staying behind. Padme counts it as a burst of Jedi self-pity and obliges, but not before Beru Lars swears to keep an eye on him. The three of them hides for as long as they can on Lah'mu, but when Erso is captured, they’re forced to escape. Leia is broken over losing her new friend, and Padme promises that she’ll see Jyn again, though she fears that the promise may not hold any weight.

All along the way, Padme starts to collect followers in cells all over the galaxy. More often than not, her children make friends with planet natives whose parents despise the looming threat of the empire. She finds Jira Dameron and Arel and Hana Bey through a pair of curly-haired urchins that Leia and Luke bring home during a brief second stint on Yavin 4. Shara and Kes are best friends, as close to each other as the twins are to them, and the four of them play pilots outside while their parents speak in hushed whispers over the kitchen table. When the Amidala family leaves, Hana gives Padme her word that they’ll find others, keep the base alive.

They begin to organize, wearing the symbol of the Starbird after Galen Marek disappears, and Padme finds herself the unofficial, anonymous leader of a rebellion. The faceless aspect proves itself a problem, as people seemed to wish to know the face of their leader, but Padme has been presumed dead for ten years, and would prefer to remain as such. She begins to wear a red Mandalorian mask, partially to maintain that anonymity, but also to create an icon for her allies to recognize, should she ever need it. Alrich Wren had helped her paint it to mimic a queen of Naboo’s ceremonial makeup, only inverted, with exaggerated white dots on the cheeks, a white T-shaped bar over the mouth, and gold slashes over the eyes. It’s something only she might recognize, but it’s a comfort, something from home that she can carry with her from planet to planet.

The twins turn ten on Alderaan, and Bail Organa promises them a cake for dinner, something they gape over and their mother rolls her eyes at. Bail and Breha dote over her children, having lost their own infant daughter long ago. Under their care, Leia has grown clever and adventurous, with a nose for trouble and a knack for taking on opponents twice her size. Her brother is her mirror, soft-spoken and excitable with a smile that could melt any tutor’s heart. He and his sister are never apart in their endeavors, and when Leia’s smart mouth won’t get them out of trouble, his persuasion always seems to win them the day. Padme sees herself in them and smiles, recognizing Leia’s stubbornness and Luke’s knack for diplomacy as traits that she tortured her own family with. Padme sees Anakin in them too, in the best and worst ways. When Luke grins and babbles about his new toy ships, she remembers a boy that watched pod racers with stars in his eyes, and her heart aches. When Leia comes home from school with bloody knuckles and a hard-wrung story about a bully and friend’s betrayal, Padme swears she sees a flash of orange eyes and a distinct lack of impulse control. She sits both of them down and has a long talk about patience and anger management that night, and goes to bed cursing the old ghost that seems to have resurfaced.

Three weeks before the twins turn eleven, Bail and Breha call Padme down to their war room and confess that Padme cannot remain on Alderaan long. There is a new general in Palpatine’s army, a black-helmeted Sith with a disconcerting handle on the Force. They show her footage of the Empire’s shiny new warrior wielding a red lightsaber against a group of young men, and her lip curls with immediate hatred. Bail sighs when the clip ends, turning back to the young woman that shakes with rage, eyes still fixed on the blank holoscreen. “He’s gotten wind that you’re here, so you’ll have to run. I’m sorry we can’t do much else to help.”

Padme nods, all business once again. “I’ll take them back to Yavin 4, they’ll be ready for us there. They’ll miss you, though.” She locks eyes with Breha, whose silence betrays her regret.

“We’ll miss them. It’s been wonderful having them here, almost like…” Breha doesn’t finish her sentence, but she doesn’t need to. Padme knows she’s remembering her own little girl.

She reaches out and takes the queen’s hand. “Perhaps, when it’s safe, I’ll send them back here for school. Luke’s been hanging around the senate so much that he almost seems to have given up the thought of being a fighter pilot. And you know Leia. She’s practically a princess already.”

Breha smiles, squeezing Padme’s hand. “We’ll always be here for them, and you, if you need us.”

Padme smiles. “I’ll remember that,” she says warmly, turning toward the door. Bail’s voice stops her.

“There is one more thing.” Padme turns back, lifting one eyebrow quizzically. Bail seems hesitant when he continues, “I’ve just had a pair of droids repaired. They may be of some help to you.” He opens the door, and Padme’s jaw drops.

“How the hell did you find them?”

“They were a gift from an old friend, quite a few years ago.” From his tone, Padme can discern exactly which friend, and makes a mental note to flay Obi-Wan alive. She kneels in front of the shorter droid, running a hand over its domed head. “Hello again, Artoo. It’s good to see you.” The little droid beeps happily, and she smiles. “I’ve missed you too.” She stands, addressing the second. “You too, Threepio, though I’m sure you don’t remember me.”

“Indeed not, my lady Amidala,” C-3P0 intones, golden joints already a flurry of mechanical movement. “But rest assured, I will gladly assist you. I am programmed for etiquette and protocol, fluent in over six mil—“

“I’m sure you’ll be a great help.” She interrupts, turning back toward the royal couple. “Bail, Breha, thank you for everything. I’ll be gone by morning.”

Breha smiles again. “May the force be with you, dear.” Padme feels a wry smile twist her features as she turns to leave.

“And with you, my friends. And with you.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess this is actually happening

Leia is sixteen when she meets her mother’s past life.

It’s one of the brief moments that she and her brother are separate — Luke has been building his model X-Wing for hours, and she’d finished her book. R2 usually joins her on these solo outings (the droid swears that Padme had ordered them to follow her, but Leia suspects that R2 just likes the adventure), but C-3P0 says he hasn’t seen them all day. So Leia sets off on her own, heading for the front door of the compound.

A new ship full of refugees is unloading, something that’s become almost a weekly occurrence. As always, Padme stands at the gangplank, welcoming the huddled masses into camp. Leia watches her mother as she bends to lift her mask to little children, giving them the comfort of a human face that they won’t remember behind the blood-red figure of the rebellion. The adults are received with a strong hand on the shoulder and a promise of vengeance, of resistance, of a better future.

Leia nearly moves on when one of the last refugees stops her in her tracks. The woman wears a maroon hood that falls over her eyes, but she stops dead in front of Padme, hands covering her mouth in an expression of shock. Padme steps forward, hand outstretched to the refugee, but she’s fallen to her knees before the masked leader.

“My lady.”

Leia can imagine her mother’s wry smile — she’s gotten this kind of treatment before, but it never lasts long. Reverence has no place in the rebellion. Still, she extends a hand to the woman. “Please, get up. No one bows here.”

The woman does rise, but not without a wondrous look on her face. “My lady, you don’t understand.”

“It’s all right, dear—“

“I helped paint that face, I can recognize the makeup.”

It’s Padme’s turn to gape at the woman lifting her hood, revealing dark hair twisted into a complicated bun.

“Rabé?”

The brown-eyed woman smiles, tearing up. “Yes, my lady.”

Leia watches her mother fall into her handmaiden’s arms, her mask falling to the ground as she sobs. The two women clutch at each other in disbelief, hands running over lined faces as if questioning their corporeality. After a few minutes, Padme looks over at her daughter. “Leia, love. Come over and meet your aunt.”

Leia steps forward, and Rabé wraps her in a hug. "Leia, my sweet girl. It's wonderful to finally meet you."

They walk back to Padme’s rooms as Rabé explains how she knew Leia’s mother, and Leia can hardly believe what she hears.

“You were a queen?”

“And a senator,” Padme says, smiling that wry smile again. “This was before the Empire.”

Leia grins. “So that means I’m a princess!”

Padme and Rabé both laugh at that, and they enter Padme’s sparse quarters. Leia sits on the bed with her mother, who offers Rabé the only chair in the room.

“We used to say Sabé was my right hand, but Rabé was my left.” Padme has a faraway look in her eye, and Leia wonders how she never asked about her mother’s past.

“Sabé was the diplomat — the decoy. I was never a good talker, but I was a better shot.” Rabé grins.

“A better shot and a better hairstylist.”

“I’m multitalented.” Rabe reaches out to touch Padme’s hair, twisted into a knot at the back of her head. “You, however, never quite mastered doing it on your own.” Rabé’s laughter rings out when Padme slaps her hand away, rolling her eyes. Leia touches her own braids, which always seem to come undone at inopportune times. Rabé notices and beckons her over. Leia sits at her feet, and Rabé gently begins to comb her hands through her hair, working out errant knots as she speaks.

The conversation turns darker, as Rabé recounts the last sixteen years. She and Padme mention names Leia has never heard, but clearly mean everything to her mother.

“What about Hollé? Umé?”

“Both dead.” Rabé shakes her head sadly. “Yané and Miré too.”

“But Dané’s alive?” Padme’s face betrays a grief that Leia’s never seen before. “Have you seen her?”

“Once, I think. But that was years ago.”

"Who else?”

“Dormé and Fé are married, in hiding. I told them where I was headed, but they’re safe where they are. They’re happy, all things considered.” Padme leans back, relief palpable. “I don’t know about Eirtaé or Moteé.”

“Saché? Ellé?”

“Dead. Imperial strike, three years ago.”

Padme swallows hard, seeming to fear her next question. “Sabé?”

Rabé shakes her head again. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Padme nods, looking down at her hands. Rabé ties off Leia’s braid and places a gentle hand on her shoulder. “There you go, dear.”

Leia rises mutely and rejoins her mother, leaning against her. Padme takes her daughter’s hand almost instinctively, and Leia wishes Luke was there to breach the silence. As if reading her thoughts, Padme turns to Leia with a faint smile. “Leia, why don’t you get your brother? He’ll want to meet his aunt."

Leia nods and sets off down the hall, bursting in on her brother. He’s so focused on his ship that he barely notices.

“Mom wants to see you”

“What is it? I’m busy.” Luke looks up. “What happened to your hair?”

Leia catches a look in the mirror at the pair of braided buns that Rabé has coiled atop her head and smiles. “Come on. You’ll see.”

Luke jumps up, and the two race down the hall together. Luke is confused when Rabé introduces herself, and only slightly less impressed than his sister at the ELG-3A blaster on her hip, but he too sits rapt at attention when she recounts her recent escape from an imperial prison to Yavin 4.

“You see, it was a miracle I made it. I was this close to the emperor himself!”

“But you didn’t kill him?” Luke is in awe, eyes fixed on the handmaiden’s gesticulating hands.

Rabé’s face twists. “I didn’t have my blaster on me, or I would have. Him and his attack dog…”

—

The emperor is pleased with Vader’s work, he says. The budding rebellion is still young, and if Vader is able to snuff them out soon, he’ll be rewarded.

Vader nods in understanding and rises.

The walk to the bridge is a long one, a series of corridors connected by a maze of ninety-degree turns. One of them opens on a stretch of glass, and Vader finds himself slowing to a stop, looking out on the skeleton of his creation.

Erso had called it a Death Star in his blueprints. There was no more fitting name, he had said, for something so deadly. Vader agreed — there was no more fitting name for something so brilliant. A weapon like this could solve their every problem in a moment. With a single blast, all that was decaying and festering in his galaxy could be cleanly wiped away and replaced with something new and beautiful. A blank slate for the galaxy, a sense of order among the chaos. All would be well again.

Maybe then, he’d find peace.

Maybe this new order would cut away at the scar tissue and settle his unease, the doubt he kept so well-concealed from Palpatine. It crept up in his worst moments — in the meditation chamber, during interrogations with rebel spies. It gnawed at his mind every time the masked rebellion leader showed up in footage captured from any random planet.

That was always the way with him, the leader they’d dubbed Insurgent 002114 but begun to simply call Phantom. He’d appear in a crowd, red mask glinting, and disappear the moment imperial troops went to investigate. He’d be seen during every rebel attack, observing his troops as they terrorized imperial bases, and even though he’d become the prize of every stormtrooper to kill, their shots always seemed to miss.

Vader moved on toward the bridge. There was strategy to be planned, a rebellion to quash. A haunting red visage to push from his mind.

He meets Galen Erso outside of the control room. Erso looks paler than usual, more drawn. Vader sneers at his weakness beneath his helmet.

“Erso. What news can you give me?”

Erso flinches at Vader’s deep monotone. “Construction has just begun, sir. It will be years before the Death Star is complete.”

“How long?”

“F-Five years? It’s difficult to say.”

“I need it in three.”

Erso bows. “Of course, sir.” He intones, then sighs.

Vader whirls around, hand extended. His Force choke slams Erso into the wall, his toes barely touching the ground. “Without the attitude, Erso.”

Erso gives a strangled sound. “Yes, sir,” he manages, hands clutching at his throat.

Vader could kill him for his insolence, but something stops him. He releases the engineer, who falls to the ground heaving deep gulps of breath. He looks down at this pitiful man, and something worms its way into his stomach.

Regret.

Regret, and what could, if voiced, be an apology. He forces the treacherous feeling away, pushes past Erso to the control room. The council rises upon his entrance, continuing their conversation the moment he takes his place at the table. Their plans are moving as they should.

Except, one officer adds, for Insurgent 002114.

Vader’s fists clench upon hearing the name. The officer hesitates, and admits that the Phantom’s forces have just destroyed an imperial base on Coruscant. Vader’s head snaps to face him.

“You mean to tell me that the rebellion was able to bypass our defenses and destroy a critical base? On your watch?”

The officer winces. “I’m afraid so, my lord.”

Vader stands, looking over the group. They freeze in fear and anticipation, and so he makes his next words especially clear. “You will find the Phantom, or I will. This is your final warning, officer.”

The officer falls to his knees in thanks, but Vader has already turned to leave. The doubt is back, twisting through him and affecting his resolve. Vader gives a shaky exhale and makes for the meditation chamber.

Once this Phantom is eliminated, all will be well. He's sure of it.

Mostly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's a secret coded reference in there, if you find it


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yeah yeah, i'm still at it.

One day, Luke makes one of his models fly.

He’s painstakingly placing the tiny pilot into the cockpit, admiring his own paintwork. Detailing the tiny rebel insignia on the back of his helmet had taken hours, as had drawing in individual sandy hairs that peeked out from beneath the visor. Luke had given his tiny self polished black boots and a little grin, waited hours for it to dry, and now gently lowered it into its seat with the utmost care when—

BANG

Leia bursts into his room, the door slamming into the wall. Luke jerks upright, startled, dropping his pliers. He watches as they drop onto the tail of his model, almost in slow-motion as they launch the ship into a vertical flight. He lunges toward the floor, hand outstretched as his X-Wing tumbles toward the floor.

“Luke! You’ll never guess who’s here! It’s A—“

Leia’s sentence trails off and her jaw drops.

Luke looks up. “What? Who’s here?”

He notices her gaping, looks down at where her eyes are fixed on his hand, outstretched to catch the pieces of his model. He hasn’t caught a single one.

They float above his hand, suspended in air.

—

Seventeen years after Vader thinks he’s done with the light, it stabs him in the gut.

Specifically, it stabs him twice. He’s lucky he’s not with Palpatine because the force is enough to have him doubling over on the bridge, wheezing. He only has enough time to say he’s fine and straighten before it happens again, forcing him to his knees.

The officers around him hover like concerned, frightened flies, too close to approach. He stands and pushes past them, growling all the way to his meditation chamber.

The chamber door whirs shut behind him as he pulls off his helmet. It’s an arduous task, removing each piece of glossy black armor, but he soon stands on two iron legs, the mechanics whirring as he eases into his chair, prosthetic arms creaking with the effort.

The Force surrounds him, the familiar cold seeping into his bones. Vader exhales, finally healing again. Kneeling here, meditating on his true intentions. The emperor recommends it, so he spends hours on it. The cold sinks into his torn, scarred flesh, entirely relieved.

That is, until it suddenly starts to warm.

Vader squeezes his ruined eyes shut and focuses. The Force cools around him again for a moment, and he sighs.

And yet.

The light creeps in again around the edges of his concentration, burning against the buffer of dark energy he’s built around him. It pounds at his defenses, worming its way into his mind until it’s too much to bear.

Vader’s eyes snap open. This kind of intrusion hasn’t happened since he was twenty-three, confused and grieving and relying only on Palpatine for guidance. He’d been committed to anger then, but age has dulled the flame that tied him to the darkness. Seventeen years alone, he’s learned, tend to wear on people more than frustrating Jedi masters. What’s left is work and exhaustion, a routine dotted with moments of rage toward the rebellion and flashbacks of a past he regrets losing.

On the impossible days, Padme occupies his mind. When he looks out over burning planets, her face seems to materialize. He tells her that he does this to bring order to the galaxy, does it to bring about her vision. On the really impossible days, he isn’t sure she’d agree.

She wanted peace. He’s bringing order. It’s the same.

_It’s not the same._

It’s close. I’m trying.

_It isn’t._

He pushes her voice out of his head. Palpatine might sense him dwelling on it and doubt his control. The past is dead, he cannot bring it back. She is dead. She died years ago, because of—

_Wait._

_Oh._

_Oh no._

Understanding hits Vader in an instant, and he suddenly feels ill. It isn’t possible, and yet the light warms around him as he considers it. The Force knows, and it’s never been wrong.

He catches a glimpse of his face in the reflective chrome of the chamber walls, still scarred and pale, though the years have healed his mutilated features well. He was handsome once, even more so with his beautiful wife beside him.

One would hope his children hadn’t inherited his looks.

—

Both twins stare at the floating model, stunned. Leia breaks the silence, face breaking into a huge grin.

“You can do it too!”

Luke tears his eyes away from the tiny pilot to stare at his sister. “You made your x-wings fly?”

She rolls her eyes. “No, not exactly. But I stopped my books from falling off the shelf without touching them and figured something was up.”

“When was this?”

“Six months ago.”

“ _Six months_?” Luke exclaims, incredulous, “You’ve been able to use the Force for _six months_ and you didn’t tell me?”

Leia lifts her chin, defensive. “Well, yeah. I didn’t want you to feel bad if you couldn’t.”

“Leia,” Luke says slowly, still processing. “We can use the _Force_.”

Luke and Leia lock eyes for a moment, both momentarily terrified and giddy. The air around them seems to crackle with energy, and Luke suddenly gets the sense that this is only the beginning of something both wondrous and terrible.

“What do we do now? No one here understands it.”

Leia smiles, grabbing her brother’s hand. “That’s what I forgot to tell you.”

“What?”

“Ahsoka’s back.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> writing from vader's perspective? never heard of her.

“What are we going to call her?”

“Her?”

Padme looks down fondly at Anakin, carding her hand idly through his hair. “What makes you so sure she’s going to be a girl?”

Anakin doesn’t blush, but he turns his head where it rests on her lap, avoiding her eyes. “I don’t know, I just…”

Padme smiles. “Just want a daughter to spoil?”

He does flush this time, and she laughs.

“What if we called her Shmi?”

Anakin sits up suddenly, staring at his wife. He renders her speechless for a moment, struck by the fire in his eyes.

“You’d want to do that?”

“Of course I’d honor her memory,” Padme says, touching his cheek. “If that’s what you want.”

Anakin leans in to kiss her, but when he pulls away, his smile has faded.

“What is it, love?”

He shakes his head. “She’d want me to move on. If we named our daughter after her, I’d always remember how I failed her.”

Padme nods, understanding. Anakin’s love for his mother amazes her, something she never had with her own mother. Jobal and Ruwee were kind but distant parents, and though she loves her sister, Sola was never a name she wanted to pass on.

“What if he’s a boy?” She muses, lost in thought.

Anakin frowns.“What if he is? What if he’s force sensitive too?”

Padme smacks his arm. “Our daughter could be a Jedi just as well as a son,” she retorts, folding her arms.

Anakin looks unconvinced. “Either way, what would we do? The Jedi don’t keep manuals on how to raise baby Force users.”

Padme takes his hand and holds it tight, locking eyes with her husband. “Then we’ll train them ourselves,” she decides, fiercely determined, “They’ll be a brilliant Jedi, or a brilliant leader, but they’ll be ours.”

 

—

 

Ahsoka descends from the gangplank of the Ghost with little of her usual swagger. She’s a little more rough around the edges than she was when Padme last saw her, a little more scarred and a little more tired.

Then again, so is Padme. So are they all.

The twins come racing up then, and Ahsoka grins as they throw their arms around her.

“Look at you two! Who let you grow so much?” Ahsoka exclaims, a hand on each twin’s shoulder. “At this rate, you’ll be taller than me by tomorrow.”

“I guess you’ll just have to stick around to watch it happen, Aunt Ahsoka.” Luke says, beaming.

Ahsoka ruffles his hair, a fond smile on her face. “Guess I will, kid”

“What, no love for us?” A figure in full Mandalorian armor steps through the door.

Leia nearly tackles Sabine Wren in a hug as the rest of the Ghost’s crew appears. Hera and Kanan make their way down towards Padme, bickering about something, while Luke tries not to embarrass himself in front of Ezra. Padme watches her family, thankful for the brief moment of peace.

Ahsoka catches her eye, and that sense of peace is gone. The Jedi — It’s impossible to call her anything else, even with Order destroyed — looks troubled, a slight frown touching the edges of her mouth. She approaches Padme and pulls her into a tight embrace.

“Hey, majesty.”

“Good to see you, Ahsoka.”

Ahsoka keeps a hand on her shoulder, leaning back to look at the twins. “Padme, it’s time. They’re ready.”

Padme nods, solemn and resigned. “We’ll speak inside. Bring Kanan.”

They part, and Hera comes over to make her report. Padme nods along, but her mind is on different things.

 

That night, Padme meets the two Jedi in the rebellion’s situation room, the dim light creating strange shadows on the mapping equipment on the walls.

“So, we have a new pair of padawans.” Ahsoka perches on the central table, swinging her legs.

Kanan nods, expression solemn. “And no one to train them both.”

“Kanan, you’re sure you can’t take on a second?” Padme asks.

Kanan shakes his head. “I was still a Padawan when I took Ezra on. Besides, it’s rare for Jedi to mentor more than one.”

“And you don’t want to send one of them off on the Ghost,” Ahsoka pipes up, “I know Luke’s had his eye on piloting, but—“

“He’s not getting in a cockpit anytime soon,” Padme says firmly. “I’ll find someone. Ahsoka, can you begin training with them together?”

Ahsoka nods, her expression grim. There’s a lot of old baggage between them, and the twins discovering their abilities has opened the floodgates. Kanan seems to sense this, excusing himself quietly and heading, no doubt, to Hera’s bunk.

Padme exhales, suddenly exhausted. Ahsoka leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees and hanging her head. Each avoids the other’s gaze for a long moment.

It’s Padme who finally speaks. “I know this is difficult for you. I apologize. But we have no other choice.”

Ahsoka laughs, but it’s an empty sound. “I love the twins. It’s just…painful. You know I never really finished my training.”

Padme nods, remembering in gruesome detail how Ahsoka’s mentor had met his end. “I know. I’m sorry.” She smiles sadly. “You two were a good team.”

Ahsoka looks up to meet her eyes, the same sadness etched in the lines of her face. “You were too.”

They chuckle. “You know, I always thought we could have saved him,” Padme admits.

“When was that, before or after the younglings?” Ashoka replies, her voice bitter.

Pain stabs through Padme’s chest as the memories come rushing back. “Even after. I just always thought— well, until…”

“Until he tried to kill you.” Ahsoka finishes. Her words hang there between them, a weight that seems to settle over their shoulders. She pushes off the table to stand and shoves her hands in her pockets. “You were right. We were just too late.”

Padme starts toward the door. “I’ll talk to the kids in the morning. We’ll worry about a second trainer when the time comes.”

They part uneasy. The halls of the bunker are eerily silent as Padme makes her way toward her bunk, past hundreds of rebels sleeping as peacefully as soldiers can. She’s only just become comfortable with calling this a war, only now that their youngest pilots return with wild, haunted eyes and their oldest don’t return at all. Their numbers have been stable for a while, but Padme fears that may change with their newest plans of attack. They’ve had a few small victories, but they’ve yet to tangle directly with the Emperor’s black-suited warrior. Until they do, they underestimate the empire’s power, and they’re unprepared.

Padme is so lost in thought that she hardly notices the light spilling from a cracked-open door before she arrives in front of it. Hushed laughter rises from the group of teenagers seated inside. Padme peeks in through the crack, reminding herself that it’s a mother’s right to snoop on her children and their friends having a very cute slumber party.

It’s exactly as cute as she expects. Luke leans against the foot of his sister’s bed, feet tangling with Ezra’s. Sabine lies on the bed with her head in Leia’s lap and braiding the ends of Leia’s long, loose curls. Shara Bey sits below them on the ground, nearly in Kes Dameron’s lap. The two have been dancing around their budding romance for years now, Padme remembers. Wedge Antilles also seems to notice, since he nudges Ezra every time they get too close and giggles. Cassian Andor watches them all, the youngest and quietest member of their group. When he does speak, it’s a sly joke that has them all cackling. Padme seems to have arrived at one of these moments.

“So anyway,” Shara says, still wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. “My comm is full of static, Cassian is on the ground, and Kes is behind me just SCREAMING, and I still have to land the kriffing ship!”

“In my defense,” Kes shouts over their howls, “All Shara would say is ‘we’re okay’ and we were _literally_ on fire.”

“We were fine, you’re just a wimp, Dameron.”

“Yeah, well you know what, Bey?” Kes grabs Shara around the waist, tickling her until she shrieks. Wedge nudges Ezra, Luke pokes Leia, and they all dissolve into laughter again.

Padme moves on past them, smile renewed. She can’t help believe that those kids will save this rebellion, Vader be damned.

She arrives to find her handmaidens waiting in her quarters. Eirtaé and Moteé sit close together, Rabé across from them at the table. The two of them had arrived within months of each other as stowaways and were still acclimating to rebel life. The three women are never far from Padme’s side in the bunker, but rarely leave on missions with her. Only Rabé feels comfortable venturing out, and that’s only when she has her blaster strapped to her hip.

Padme joins them at the table. Eirtaé hands her a cup of the Naris-bud tea Moteé has brewed since they were back on Naboo. The aroma is familiar and comforting, the only reminder of her past that hasn’t pained Padme today.

“The twins will start Jedi training tomorrow.” She states, emotionless. Rabé and Moteé both make sounds of protest, while Eirtaé just twists her mouth in dismay.

“Padme, you can’t let them!” Moteé cries, gripping the edge of the table. “That training…they’re just not ready.”

Rabé’s tone is more measured, but there’s more fury in her words. “The Force twists emotion, Padme, and you know your children. Luke is too trusting, and Leia has a temper. They’ll be led down a path you can’t follow, and you remember what happened to—“

“I remember exactly what happened, Rabé.” Padme’s voice is severe, reminiscent of her time in the Senate. “I won’t make the same mistakes.”

“But—“

“The twins will not be swayed by the dark. They’re stronger than he was.”

“Never knew their father, fighting for a righteous cause, a little hotheaded,” Eirté speaks up. “The same as him. They’re good kids, Padme, but that’s an easy combination for the Sith to prey on. Who’s to say it’ll be any different?”

“I do.”

Padme sets her cup of tea down, mouth set in a hard line. “I couldn’t save Anakin—” The handmaidens flinch at his name. “—But I won’t need to save them. They’re smarter than we ever were. They have the support we never had.”

The four of them sit in uneasy silence, but Padme is resolute. She stands between the darkness and her children. This time, she won’t lose.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's finals, so apologies for the shit quality of this one. see you on the other side.

Vader didn’t know he could become paranoid, but here he is.

He’s justified. Palpatine can read his mind.

He only allows himself to think of his children when he knows the emperor’s mind is elsewhere, guarding his own thoughts without really knowing why.

He supposes he fears the emperor’s judgement more than he trusts it, fears what Palpatine might order him to do should he find out about the twins — for they are twins, he’s determined that. Two eighteen year olds, nearly grown, and honing their powers every day. He doesn’t know anything else, but he scours the rebel footage his officers bring in hopes of catching sight of them.

All he’s seen so far is the Phantom, still tormenting him. The red-masked insurgent always seems to appear after a particularly destructive attack, surveying the carnage with gold-slashed eyes. He’s there on the moon of Jedha when a blind warrior destroys an unbelievable number of imperial troops, but he’s gone before Saw Gerrera dies with his holy city.

Vader watches it burn, fists clenched. Palpatine stands before him, hooded eyes fixed not on the holo, but on the battered soldier that shakes with rage at his failure. Anger blocks any other emotion that the emperor might have gleaned from his mind. Vader knows this, knows to mask his intent as he searches the footage. Still, nothing.

“General.”

Vader’s head snaps up. “Sir.”

The emperor wears his usual twisted smirk, and Vader finds it more grating now than ever. He shuts all thoughts of Anakin Skywalker’s children out of his out of his mind, defenses slamming down like iron hangar doors as he meets Palpatine’s eyes.

“I need this threat neutralized,” the emperor hisses. If he noticed Vader’s wandering mind, he doesn’t acknowledge it. “Track the Phantom down. Destroy him before he gains any more headway. He is your responsibility now. We cannot allow this menace to gain any more traction.”

Vader nods. “I won’t let you down, sir.”

Palpatine inclines his head, flciking a gnarled hand in dismissal. Vader turns to leave, exhaling heavily, but Palpatine’s voice makes him pause.

“You know your allegiance, Darth Vader. No distractions.”

Vader’s blood runs cold. He nods again, steps quickening resolve settling. Through the fog of confusion and fear and _oh kriff he knows_ , one thing becomes perfectly clear.

The Phantom must die, or Palpatine will make sure he never see his children. That’s a risk he cannot take.

 

—

 

“It’s suicide.”

Padme has lost before. She lost countless fights in the Senate, countless times with her own advisors on Naboo. Even now, she’s often outvoted in war council, letting her ideas be overruled by her generals. She’s lost battles both domestic and foreign, from huge movements of war to bedside bickering with her husband. She’s used to letting go, knows where to cut her losses. She knows when she’s been beaten.

However, she absolutely refuses to lose this battle.

Leia stands in front of her, fists clenched. Luke and Shara Bey flank her, a wall of adolescent determination. Padme only has the ship’s holo projections of Rabé and Ahsoka to back her up, and though that should be a formidable defense, she sees a glint in her daughter’s eye that she knows all too well.

“We can’t just leave them there, mom. They’re our people.” Leia’s voice is practically bursting with barely-controlled rage, only her determination to win and hours of debate practice keeping it in check.

“Jyn and Cassian knew what they signed up for. So did the rest of them. The Rogue One team is taking a risk, and they know not to expect a rescue.”

“Fuck that.” Shara Bey shakes with anger, even more unruly than Leia. Cassian is like a brother to her, Padme knows, and the pilot is loyal to a fault. “They’re our friends, and we can’t just leave them to die.”

“Shara, they have weaponry we cannot comprehend. You’ll die, and we need you here. The rebellion can’t afford to lose more soldiers.”

“The rebellion can’t afford to sink to the empire’s level, mom.” Padme’s glare snaps back to her daughter. “We aren’t stormtroopers. We aren’t cattle or slaves. These are people, and their lives are just as important as the final goal.”

“That’s enough,” Leia flinches at her mother’s words. “Leia, you have a part to play in this. Follow orders, or you will not be allowed command again. Shara, the same goes for you. I don’t want to hear another word.”

“But—“

“Enough!” It isn’t Padme who shouts, but Ahsoka. The Jedi looks exhausted, her flickering image hardly commanding, but Leia immediately looks mollified. “Girls, that’s it. It’s done.

Padme nods, silently thanking her friend, but Ahsoka isn’t finished. “Padme, take Luke. It’s time for him to meet our old friend.”

Luke doesn’t look surprised — Ahsoka must have explained why he’d be changing mentors. Her son has remained uncharacteristically silent this entire time, which might worry her if she wasn’t entirely worried about a thousand other things. He follows as they turn to leave, throwing a cursory glance back at his sister. Padme misses the look of understanding that passes between the twins, misses Rabé’s glare before she logs out of the holo. She and Luke load into the pod — she even lets him drive — and they shift into hyperspeed, leaving the command ship far behind.

Once they’re gone, Leia rounds on Ahsoka’s holographic image, fury now directed at her mentor.

“You too? I can’t believe you’d side with her, you kn—“

“Shara, get to the hangar. You still have time.” Ahsoka’s voice cuts her off, and both of them gape at her. “Leia, be ready for the transmission when it comes. You can’t jeopardize this operation.”

“You’re serious?”

Ahsoka smiles, a crooked, mischievous half-grin that makes her look twenty years younger. “I lost people too. Don’t love the idea of it happening again. Go.”

Shara races off without another word, and an X-wing leaves for Scarif moments later. Leia remains, eyes still fixed on Ahsoka.

“My father. That’s who you lost.”

Ahsoka quirks an eyebrow. “How’d you guess?”

Leia presses on. “Mom always changes the subject when we bring him up. But you cared for him.” Ahsoka’s face falls, and it dawns on her. “Did he— you couldn’t save him.”

Ahsoka looks up, grief etched on her face, and Leia regrets digging up whatever this is. Her mentor exhales, the sigh shaking the holo and making it staticky.

“Something like that. I’ll tell you when you get back, okay?” Leia nods. “Good. May the force be with you. And don’t do anything stupid.”

Leia grins. “You got it.”  
She runs off, white sleeves flapping. Faintly, she recognizes Artoo and Threepio following behind her, the golden droid sputtering worriedly. She can’t hear him, of course.

Leia has a mission to finish, and after that?

She’s going to save the galaxy.

 

—

 

It doesn’t go that way.

Shara makes it down to Scarif through the smoke and debris. She lands on shaking ground, dodging screaming imperial officers and falling chunks of building.

Not far from where she landed, a conjoined lump lies prone on the sand. Shara crawls across the beach to them, praying that she’s right the entire time. Sand stings her eyes, scraping her knuckles raw, but she forges on.

The whole ordeal takes her less than five minutes, but each second drags out in slow motion. Shara throws a body over each shoulder and hauls a badly burned Jyn and Cassian into her ship. She locks eyes with Cassian for a moment and knows not to try and look for the others.

They take off with moments to spare before Scarif turns to flame. Shara makes the mistake of thinking that they might be in the clear. The imperial forces aren’t firing, after all, and the flight back is steady, but when she returns to the command ship’s coordinates, it’s gone. Bewildered, she flies back to Yavin 4. She screams for a medic the moment she lands, and the flurry of rebellion soldiers around them is disorienting. She watches as Jyn and Cassian are carried out, adrenaline still racing.

A hand touches her shoulder, and she whirls around to see a gaunt-eyed Kes. She only has a moment to feel guilty about worrying him before he pulls her into a bone-crushing hug. She leans into it, letting him support her as the strength seems to leave her body entirely.

“You got them. You saved them,” he murmurs. Shara nods.

“We won.”

Kes stiffens, and she pulls back. “Kes? It worked, didn’t it?”

He looks uneasy, and she barely hears his response. Her head goes light, her stomach turning as Kes holds her upright. His words echo in her mind, a nightmare come true.

“Leia’s been captured.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anakin skywalker's eyes are whatever color i say they are

She has his eyes.

No, she doesn’t. She has Anakin Skywalker’s eyes, and they burn bright and angry, lit gold by the harsh lights of the ship.

 

“Darth Vader. Only you could be so bold.”

 

He can only stare as she fires off a list of his transgressions, as if he were the criminal insurgent, not she. She never stutters, never stumbles over her words, never once breaks piercing eye contact. His daughter stares him down head-on, fearless and brilliant.

He’s struck by how proud Padme would have been of the diplomat arguing her case before him, completely composed yet entirely aflame. He can barely parry her words, waving to the troopers to bring her to the hold. He stalks off in the opposite direction, heart thudding in time with his ragged breaths. Her glare is seared into his mind, the enraged face of a puny girl who his officers whisper is one of the rebellion’s most talented spies.

His _daughter_.

The realization had hit with all the gravity of a moon in orbit, the Force around him suddenly turning agitated. He’d nearly dismissed the notion entirely: the idea that she could possibly be his child would be completely implausible were it not for the memory of his wife. He imagines a son with the opposite features, smiling Padme’s kind smile while looking in every way the scruffy desert-dwelling pilot he faintly remembers himself to be.

Before he can consider the possibility for long, a problem presents itself in the form of a quaking officer with a message from the emperor. Vader barely registers the old Sith lord’s congratulations, feeling suddenly hollow.

There’s no way Palpatine will let the girl live now that he has her captive. Vader realizes in an instant that he must extract the location of the Phantom and of the stolen plans before the emperor decides to use force. He cannot allow his master to harm this girl, and though he does not fully understand why, the conviction is too strong to question.

The Phantom doesn’t stand a chance now: Darth Vader has one more thing to fight for.

 

—

 

Twin suns rise as Luke sets the ship down on Tatooine’s sand. Padme steps out and inhales, letting the dry heat fill her lungs in a way that’s almost comforting in its harshness. The desert smells of salted earth and faint burning, and she can’t believe she’s missed it.

Obi-Wan’s home — more of a rock he’s decided to situate himself under, really — isn’t far from where they landed. Padme had spotted the single dwelling in the Jundland wastes and directed her son toward a hovel so appropriate for exile and self-loathing that it could only belong to her dramatic friend. He’s waiting outside as they approach, sporting a beard bleached white by age and the sun — still meticulously maintained, of course.

Padme can’t help but wrap the Jedi in a hug, as delighted to see him at forty-six as she was when they were both far younger. He squeezes her back just as tightly, clearly relieved to see a familiar face. Luke watches, shy and just a tad wary of the old man.

“It’s good to see you, Padme,” says Obi-Wan, smile creasing new lines on his face.

“An understatement, old friend.” Padme returns the smile, gesturing for her son. “Obi-Wan, this is Luke. He’s ready to begin his training with you.”

“Oh?” Obi-Wan’s expression changes, still kind, but with an apprehension Padme thinks she recognizes. “What have you learned so far, my boy?”

Luke straightens, eager for the chance to prove himself. “Mostly the basic maneuvers — Ahsoka taught us the first four levels of a Padawan’s training.”

“Anything else?”

Luke shrugs. “I can lift pretty big rocks.”

Obi-Wan laughs, patting Luke on the shoulder. “Very well, my boy. I’m sure we can lift some very large rocks here.” He nods at Padme, a silent reassurance.

Padme holds out her arms to her son, who willingly hugs his mother with minimal eye rolling.

“You be safe, okay?”

Luke nods, solemn and full of purpose. “May the Force be with you, mom.”

Padme chuckles, ruffling her son’s hair one last time. “You too, Padawan.”

 

Before she can think twice, Padme is back on her ship, wiping tears from her eyes as she speeds back toward Yavin 4. The ship's screens show an incoming transmission from the base. She opens it to see Shara’s tearstained face.

“Shara, honey, what happened?” Perhaps it’s the absence of her own son, but maternal instinct keeps her from referring to the pilot by her rank.

Shara delivers the news.amidst a rush of tangled apologies, and Padme’s world crashes around her. Noise crashes in her ears, drowning out all rational thought but one.

 

_No._

_No._

_NO._

 

As quickly as her panic set in, logic takes over and her brain resets. She turns to the distraught pilot on the holo, gaze suddenly razor-sharp.

“Bey. Hold down the base. Mobilize troops and prepare to receive the Death Star plans at any moment.” Padme grits her teeth. “I’ll be back soon.”

She ends the call and changes the ship’s direction so abruptly that its engines groan. Her eyes focus in on the farthest star she can see, and she pulls the mask down just before shifting into hyper speed.

Padme Amidala sets her course for the Death Star with one notion perfectly clear.

Darth Vader doesn’t stand a chance against her

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leia:  
> vader: i would die for you


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trying some new shit.

Leia is freezing.

The cell they’ve put her in is all hard black chrome under harsh white lights. She curls up on the bench that the empire deems a bed, shivering when her cheek presses against the metal.

_This is only temporary_ , she tells herself. Artoo and Threepio will take her message home, and the rebellion will send help. The rebellion doesn’t leave its people behind.

_Well…not exactly._

She shakes her head to clear it. No, they’re coming back for her. This is different from the rogue mission.

_Everyone is equal in the rebellion. Why should you be different?_

“Stop it,” she snaps aloud, voice echoing through the cell. “Be smart about this.”

They’re coming back for her. Ahsoka and Shara would never leave her. Her mother would never leave her. She folds her arms indignantly against her own doubts, settling the matter.

_Think, Leia. Think like a rebel operative._

She shifts over to lie on her back, one leg crossed over her raised knee. After all, how can she worry about death when this is the rebellion’s first close encounter with Vader?

Palpatine’s attack dog is exactly as intimidating as he seemed on the holo. She knows instinctively that there is something wrong with him, something almost personal. Ashoka would tell her to rely on the Force, to search her feelings for the truth, but when she tries, her mind feels murky, All she can sense is _bad bad bad_ , and she could tell that from the stupid ominous black suit.

So Jedi training isn’t going to help her. Good thing she didn’t spend her entire life training to be just one thing.

Staring up at the ceiling, she can tell that the room is sealed — no vents, no pipes, nothing she could use to escape. There’s no way she can talk her way out — the stormtroopers have their orders, and Tarkin knows how valuable her information is.Her only chance at escape comes when they next open that door, likely to torture the location of the plans out of her. If she gives it up, they’ll kill her to send a message to the rebellion. Her imprisonment is a prelude to a death sentence.

With that comforting thought in mind, Leia sets about devising a plan. She’ll need a weapon — she’ll have to subdue the troopers that come to get her. Still, the Death Star is a maze, and she’s a recognizable rebel. She’ll have to make it to the hangar unseen before Vader and Tarkin realize she’s gone. From there, she has to commandeer a TIE fighter somehow — Shara would know how, but Leia’s piloting skills fall far below her best friend’s. She’ll have to rely on pressing random buttons to figure it out.

Footsteps sound outside the door, and she tenses. They pass by after a moment, and she exhales.

Get a blaster. Get to the hangar. Get out.

Really, that’s only three things. She’s Leia Amidala. She can do it.

Footsteps again. This time, they stop. Leia stands, checks her reflection in the chrome. She wears a mask of practiced, calm indifference, a veiled glare she’s watched her mother level at countless men. If this look could make Davits Draven quail, she’s confident it could do the same to a stormtrooper.

The door slides open.

It’s not a stormtrooper.

 

—

 

Vader is at a loss for what to do. If the girl is anything like her mother, she’ll never give up the information he needs to keep her alive. If she’s anything like him, a mind trick will never subdue her, And he absolutely refuses to use torture. This is his daughter, after all.

He paces by her cell, agitated. There’s no way he can explain his intentions without revealing himself, and he can’t risk that. She’d reject him immediately, wouldn’t even give him a chance, and despite what he knows about attachments, he desperately wants to know this girl.

Force damn him, he’s becoming paternal.

He stops, finally, in front of the door, exhales noisily, and punches the code. The door slides open with an audible thunk, and he’s faced with the ice-cold glare of an enraged princess.

“You.” Leia’s fists are clenched, her slight frame coiled like a spring ready to snap. The door thuds shut, and Vader suddenly gets the feeling that he’s locked himself in with a wild animal of a person, and he’s not quite prepared to reckon with it.

“Princess.”

“Commander.”

“Excuse me?”

“Let’s not beat around the bush, Vader. You know I’m a commander in the Rebellion.”

His mouth twists into a wry smile beneath the mask. “And why would you reveal your allegiance when diplomacy could keep you alive? As a rebel officer, your crime is treason.”

As if she could see his face, she smiles, an unsettling mirror of his own. “Because that’s the only information you’ll get from me, Vader. I don’t have anything else you could possibly use.”

He advances toward her, cape billowing. He towers above her, thinks he sees a flicker of fear in her eyes, and winces. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.

“Your insolence will not help you, commander. If you will not give us the location of the Death Star plans, the Rebel base, and the identity of your Phantom, we will have to extract them by force.

She glares right back, still fiercely defiant. “Go on then.”

He sighs and flicks out a hand, using just enough Force to push her back against the wall. Her back hits it, she cries out, clawing at her throat.

His daughter writhes under his Force choke for only a second before he lets her drop to the ground, stumbling back in disgust at his own actions.

“Take a moment to gather your thoughts. We’ll return for your confession,” he manages, turning on his heel and sweeping out of the cell.

Once outside, he nearly collapses against the wall. Visions of Padme gasping her last breaths play behind his eyes as he storms down the hall. The last time he’d seen that look, she’d never breathed again.

He stops dead, grabs a passing trooper by the armored shoulder and jerks him back.

“Status report on prisoner 2187,” he growls. The trooper nods vigorously, scurrying off in the opposite direction.

_You pathetic life form, you didn’t even think._

Vader blows past officers and stormtroopers, a tempest on his way to the bridge. The halls clear for him, and he leaves flustered soldiers in his wake. He is an inky arrow in a ship rendered in gleaming white and chrome, and he is burning inside the suit.

Inside her cell, Leia burns too, a hand over her throat.

And in the hangar, a ship lands.

 

—

 

Luke and Obi-Wan barely make it through a lesson before Artoo appears, screaming. Threepio follows, muttering his usual worries and curses.

My sister needs us, Luke says.

We need a ship, Obi-Wan replies. I know a place, he calls over his shoulder, already out the door.

Obi-Wan says they’ll call this a lesson in Jedi mind tricks as he fools the guards into letting them through. Luke says all right, and immediately gets himself in trouble. Obi-Wan pulls him out, a rueful smile on his face the entire time. Just like old times.

The fight gets Han Solo’s attention, at least. He has a cocky smile that makes Obi-Wan uneasy, but he also has a ship fast enough to get them to the Death Star within the day. And Luke seems to like him.

He trains the boy with a lightsaber on the Falcon and calls it another lesson.

 

Luke has a bad feeling about their plan, but Han seems confident. Obi-Wan leaves to disable the tractor beam while the two of them don trooper uniforms and manage to stumble through the underbelly of Death Star, droids and Wookiee in tow.

Everything moves too fast. His heart races, breathing shallow. He kills four empire soldiers. Han doesn’t seem alarmed.

Cell 2187 is unguarded. Leia sits up when he enters, arching a single brow.

“Aren’t you a little short for a stormtrooper?” She retorts, already on the offensive.

“Leia, it’s me,” he says, yanking the helmet off. Relief washes over his sister’s face, and she leaps up to throw her arms around him. “Come on, we gotta go.”

She tilts her head in question. “Did you come alone?”

“Not quite,” he says, sheepish, and tugs her out the door.

They find Han in the middle of another shootout. He watches Leia clock the pilot, looking him up and down with the same critical eye their mother gives new recruits. He thinks they might get along until Han opens his mouth.

“Maybe you'd like it back in your cell, Your Highness,”

Leia gives him a withering look, but Luke drags her down the corridor before she can get a word out.

Their bickering becomes background noise as they race toward the hangar again. Leia’s too busy snapping at Han to pull Luke out when the dianoga grabs him, Han’s too busy sniping back to land a shot on the troopers that split them up.

Luke can barely breathe. His sister never leaves his side, keeps him looking forward. They work in tandem: he navigates, she covers him when he freezes. It’s a practiced game for them.

The sight that greets them at the hangar entrance stops Luke in his tracks. Obi-Wan stands before a black-suited soldier that can only be Darth Vader, lightsaber drawn. Vader focuses solely on the old man, unaware of Han and Chewie creeping toward their ship.

Leia takes his hand and pulls him forward. She’s shaking a little.

He follows, eyes still fixed on the battle.

 

\--

 

Vader senses his old master the moment he enters the station. He waves Tarkin away, follows the Force as it leads him deeper into the Death Star.

He finds Kenobi hurrying the hangar. His former mentor has gone grey, but his gaze is just as sharp as it ever was.

“I've been waiting for you, Obi-Wan.”

Kenobi assumes the offensive stance, saber ignited, but eyes are full of pity. Vader feels a surge of heat behind the mask, grip tightening on his own weapon.

For once, he withholds his attack. Obi-Wan makes the first lunge, but he’s slow, easy to parry. Still, Vader can’t manage to bypass his defense, his slashes growing more deadly with every parry. Kenobi never flinches, just counters his strikes with calm, controlled attacks.

Vader hears his troops advance behind him and smiles cruelly beneath the helmet. The old Jedi is trapped, but by the serene look on his wizened face, he doesn’t know it or care.

Time slows as Vader lifts his saber for the final blow, catching Kenobi off guard. The Force surges around him as he prepares to strike true, bringing the weapon down.

It never hits.

He’s blown back against the wall, a blaster hole smoking in his suit. Faintly, he hears twin screams of fear from across the hangar. It takes him a moment tear his eyes from the wound and look dazedly at his attacker.

The Phantom stands on the gangplank of a rebellion ship, mowing down troopers with expert aim from his blaster. Vader can only watch as the entire squadron falls at the hands of the red-masked soldier. A garbled voice sounds from the helmet, and he somehow registers that it’s feminine.

“Luke! Leia! Go!”

The Millennium Falcon tears away, his daughter and son ( _and son!_ ) aboard. Obi-Wan disappears into the rebel ship, and Vader lurches to his feet with a roar, charging toward his true enemy.

He’s halted by her blaster fire turning to him instead — it’s all he can do to block the shower of shots with his saber before she’s gone, her ship shifting into hyperspeed as he watches, helpless.

It’s a long time before he tears his eyes away from the pitch-black sky. It won’t be long before Palpatine realizes his failure and comes to punish him. Maybe even kill him, he thinks.

He returns, as always, to the meditation chamber.

The familiar setting doesn’t settle his mind as he fully begins to process his failure. His children are gone. The Phantom has them. The emperor will kill him if he cannot remedy this. He is, as the trainees might put it, completely kriffed.

He takes off his helmet, rubs a hand over his face. For once, it doesn’t hurt to do so.

Wait.

_Why doesn’t it hurt?_

He looks up at his reflection in the chrome walls. The eyes are still orange, the skin still pale and scarred, but brows and eyelashes have begun to grow back, the burns significantly healed. The face that glares back at him, nearly twenty years older, is undoubtedly Anakin Skywalker’s.

That can’t be good.

He crams the helmet back on, turning away from the fallen man in the mirror. Palpatine will call for him soon, and dealing with the emperor’s rage seems far more palatable than reckoning with why he’s suddenly healing.

Once more to the bridge, then, he decides, pushing all thoughts of rebels and children to the back of his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things i didn't want to write: the first half of a new hope over again  
> things i did write: 2200 words of that


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the only thing i care about is shara bey and kes dameron

Leia collapses in her chair as the sound of blaster fire fades and the Falcon shifts into hyper speed. Her entire body feels like lead, her buns falling out from her days in captivity. She’s aching to take them out, to finally rest.

She needs a shower, a long nap, and for Solo to just  _ shut up _ already.

The pilot is bragging about his fifteen seconds of heroics on the Death Star, and she can’t help but roll her eyes. She was held captive and managed to hold up to torture and interrogation from Darth Vader himself, but sure, he’s the badass here. Besides—

“They let us go,”

Han turns to gape, finally silent. She shrugs, leaning back to mimic his confident posture.

“They’re tracking us.”

He glares, incredulous “Not this ship.”

Kriff, he’s annoying. She shakes her head, leaning to rest a hand on Artoo’s dome.

“At least we’ve still got the plans. If we can find the weakness in this data, we can destroy them before they destroy us.” Artoo beeps in response, and she can almost see the little droid straightening up with pride. “It’s not over yet.”

“It is for me,” Han retorts, and it’s Leia’s turn to glare. “I ain’t in this for your revolution, and I’m certainly not in it for you.”

“Then what are you in it for, Solo?” She snaps.

“The money. I did the job, I expect to be well paid.”

Leia stands, fuming. “You’ll get it,” she yells over her shoulder, storming out with Artoo in tow. She brushes by Luke on her way out, faintly hears him ask Han what’s going on before the door slides closed. She joins the Wookiee at the table, flopping down and folding her arms stubbornly.

“Your friend’s a real piece of work,” she tells him.

Chewbacca makes a sound of agreement, and she cracks a smile. At least half of her rescue party isn’t completely insufferable.

Too soon, the infuriating pilot is back. She straightens, prepared with a sarcastic report, but he simply jerks a thumb over his shoulder.

“We’re here, princess.”

“Don’t call me that,” she replies as she sails past him towards the door. Outside the window, the green of Yavin’s fourth moon comes closer and closer.

She’s home.

\--

Shara sees her first, grabbing Kes’s arm and racing over to hug her. Her friend’s eyes are rimmed with red when she pulls away, but Leia’s just glad to see her in one piece. 

“Jyn and Cassian?”

“We got them, Leia” Shara nods, her eyes shining. “They’re in the med bay with Amilyn.”

“Amilyn’s back?’

“She and Evaan flew in from Alderaan yesterday.” And just like that, the trauma is behind them, at least for now.  Shara looks over Leia’s shoulder at Han, who stares pointedly at the ground as Luke introduces Chewbacca to Kes. “Who’s the new guy?”

Leia shakes her head. “Some asshole Luke picked up. He won’t be around long.”

Shara hasn’t stopped watching the smuggler, a smile flirting with the corner of her mouth. “He’s kinda cute.”

Leia smacks her shoulder indignantly, and Shara laughs. “Don’t you dare. Kes’ll get jealous.” The flush that rises on Shara’s cheeks as her gaze slides to her best friend is enough to make Leia smirk in satisfaction.

“We’re not— I’m not— he doesn’t—“

“He definitely does, Shar” Leia watches her friend turn even redder, just a bit lovestruck, and smiles. If anyone deserves happiness in the midst of this war, it’s her two oldest friends.

For a moment, Leia thinks that Shara’s about to go talk to him and finally put this whole mutual pining thing to rest, but they’re interrupted by the general’s ship touching down. 

There’s a flurry of movement as Padme disembarks, supporting a limping man that must be Obi-Wan Kenobi. Leia watches as the Jedi turns to say something in Padme’s ear and head into the base, leaving the general standing on the end of her ship’s gangplank, staring straight at her daughter. 

Leia winces prematurely, already preparing for a lecture. Shara takes a step back from what she’s sure will be a nuclear explosion of a conversation. Padme takes a step forward, then another. Leia braces herself for impact--

“Thank god you’re safe”

Padme pulls off her mask and throws her arms around her daughter, pulling her into a tight embrace. Leia can only hug her mother back, sagging from exhaustion.

“I was so worried.”

“You’re not mad?”

Padme pulls back, brushing a loose strand of Leia’s hair from her face. “Oh, of course I’m furious. We can worry about that later,” she says with a wan smile. “I’m just glad you’re alive.”

Leia pushes down the tears that spark at the corner of her eyes. “Mom, we got the plans. We got Jyn and Cassian out.”

“I’m proud of you, darling,” Padme says, her smile fading, “The rebellion doesn’t leave our friends behind. I forgot that for a moment.”

Leia’s overcome for a moment, unable to speak, and Artoo seems to notice, bumping at her side and beeping wildly. Luke isn’t far behind. She shakes her head, refocuses on the mission at hand. “We have to hurry. The empire tracked us here. We need to shoot this thing out of the sky.”

Padme nods, and with an arm over Leia’s shoulder and another over Luke’s, they make their way into the base.

\--

How Jyn managed to convince the medics to let her into the situation room, Leia can't figure out. She and Cassian are both heavily bandaged, barely sitting up straight in a corner as chaos reigns within the ranks of the rebel army. Padme calls the officers to order, and Leia kneels by her old friend.

“Jyn, you and Cassian might have saved us all. I can’t thank you enough.”

Jyn just smiles wearily, her hand in Cassian’s. “Just make sure we win,” she rasps, voice cracked and throaty from the ash and smoke of Scarif.

Leia nods, and joins the meeting. 

Galen Erso’s genius proves itself: the battle station’s weakness is found and the fighters deployed within minutes. Evaan Verlaine gives Leia a quick hug before racing off to captain her squadron, Shara not far behind. When Luke moves to follow, however, she stops him.

“You sure you can do this?” she asks, unable to hide the worry in her voice.

Her brother nods, “I’m going to take that shot. I’ll kill Vader for what he did,” he replies, wearing a determined look she recognizes as the same one her mother has just a few feet away. 

She pulls him into a fierce hug. ruffles his hair. “Go do it, then. Make us proud,” she says, sending him off with a shove to the chest. Luke takes a few steps backward, still smiling at her, before turning and racing off behind Evaan. 

Shara, she realizes, has been delayed. Kes has a hand on her arm, and though Leia isn’t trying to eavesdrop, their conversation isn’t exactly quiet.

“Just don’t-- please just--” Kes gesticulates wildly, seemingly at a loss for words.

“Don’t what, Kes?”

Kes’s hands fall to his sides. “Just...please come back to me,” he manages, looking down.

Shara smiles as if she understands entirely. Leia supposes she must. She watches as Shara grabs Kes by the collar, hauls him close and kisses him, her eyes fluttering closed. He barely seems to breathe when she releases him and walks away, her helmet under her arm.

“I always will,” Shara calls over her shoulder at her stricken best friend, whose mouth hangs open as he watches her leave.

Leia walks up to stand next to him, patting his shoulder. 

Kes turns to look at her incredulously. “Did she just…”   
“She did,” Leia remarks. “And it’s about time.”

\--

Luke’s hands shake on the console. The image of Darth Vader is still seared in his mind, the black-suited warrior’s roars echoing as he pilots his X-wing toward the Death Star. Around him, his comrades scream under enemy fire, explosions rocking his ship as he enters the narrow pass. Biggs goes down, and he blinks back tears. Artoo goes silent, and he nearly panics. Han’s fire takes down the enemy wingmen, and the path becomes clear.

_ Let go, Luke _ , he thinks he hears Obi-Wan say.  _ You can do it,  _ he swears he hears Leia scream.

He closes his eyes and takes the shot.

 

\--

 

In the last few moments, Padme is surrounded by allies

Mon Mothma and Leia flank her. Her handmaidens stand behind her chair. Ahsoka has a hand on Leia's shoulder. Leia grips her mother's hand in her left and Amilyn Holdo's in her right. Jyn and Cassian sit on either side of Kes, still waving away medic droids. The rebellion gathers in one room, listening as their pilots are shot down one by one. 

Shara's voice cuts in for a split second and Kes lifts his head from where he's been hunched over. Static overtakes her com, though, and he sags back into the chair. 

Padme swears the room is getting hotter as the seconds tick by. When Dutch goes down, Garven Dreis slams his hands on the table.

"That's it. We need to evac now. We can't wait any longer."

"I trust our pilots, General," she intones, voice steady as always. "We will not abandon hope."

"General, it's an incredibly di-"

"All those who wish to leave may do so." Padme levels her gaze at the gathered crowd. Not one of them moves. 

Another minute passes, however, and the noise from above doesn't cease. Rabé squeezes her shoulder reassuringly. Leia looks to be intensely concentrated on something in the middle distance. 

Then. 

A thunderous explosion sounds above them, shaking the ground under their feet. The planet quakes with the deafening sound. Padme squeezes her daughter's hand. 

Static crackles on the comm. Luke's voice sounds out, faint but clear:

"We got 'em."

The cheers of the victorious rebel army overpower the explosions that crack open the sky above them. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i'm very tired.

They win, and then they run.

Shara leads her squadron to the rebel base on Dantooine, tossing playful barbs at each other over comms. The journey is a victory lap, pilots turning out their flashiest maneuvers as they speed toward the tiny planet in the corner of the galaxy.

There’s no one in the hangar to greet them, so she’s sent down with Luke and Evaan to open the door. They touch down among towering wroshyr trees, forging through thick bushes and reeds to reach the control panel hidden in the base of the hangar’s huge doorframe.

Evaan crouches in the dirt, punching in several codes manually, and Shara catches Luke staring mournfully at Artoo’s lifeless dome. Kes will be able to reactivate the droid, but something still seems wrong about a mission without Artoo’s sarcastic chirping.

“You think anyone survived?” Shara doesn’t need to specify who. Luke understands.

“Hope not.” Luke’s eyes are set on the horizon, scanning for the incoming rebel fleet. “I hope it’s over. I hope we got ‘em all.”

Shara mimics his stance, turns her gaze toward the setting suns. Waits for the ship carrying Leia and Amilyn and Jyn and Kes to appear in that distance.

“We didn’t.”

“I know.”

Behind them, the hangar door begins to creak open with a metallic shudder. Evaan stands, brushing dirt and machine oil onto her flight suit. The gears rain dust into her twin buns, streaking gray through the gold strands.

Shara ducks under the rising door into a cavern of rough gray stone. Dusk illuminates identical dust patterns in the shape of x-wings on the floor, sheets thrown hastily over old holo equipment.

“Mom said they left thirty years ago, before the rebellion even started.” Luke’s voice echoes eerily off the stone. “The empire barely existed.”

“They left in a hurry,” Evaan comments, poking a finger at a cracked monitor. “Wonder what was chasing ‘em.”

“I’ll ask Eirtaé. She remembers the history better”

Shara turns a corner and stops dead. “You might want to ask her about this.”

The three of them stand at the mouth of a wide, shallow pit, long enough to moor four X-wings. The dusty remains of what must have been metal bars and cloth-covered dummies lie scattered on the floor. Evaan kicks at a rock, and they watch it fall into the sand, clanging off of a crumpled, rusted ladder. The pit’s steep walls are scorched with what looks like blaster fire, only more jagged, sooty branches tracing their way skyward.

“This must have been a training arena,” Luke says hollowly, eyes fixed on one of the decapitated dummies.

Minutes pass before the sound of X-wings on the horizon grows close, and they race outside. All three of them cheer on their comrades’ arrivals, whooping as the victorious pilots touch down. Shara hugs each of her pilots tightly, silently mourning those that didn’t come back with each embrace.

The Millennium Falcon lands and Luke runs to catch his sister and Han in a group hug. Shara smiles, watching them, so distracted that she almost misses Kes’s ship landing.

He comes out with Amilyn and Jyn, scanning the crowd of celebrating troops. Shara’s heart stutters when his eyes find hers, and she can only stand there, rooted to the spot, as he makes a beeline through the crowd, directly toward her,

In the three seconds it takes him, her mind goes into hyperspeed. The full consequences of kissing her best friend since childhood crash around her ears, and panicked thoughts of _what if he just wanted to be friends_ and _kriff, what if I lose him_ ricochet around her head faster than her squadron can fly. Shara is fixed in place, just staring into Kes’s determined eyes as he marches toward her, and she wants to run and she wants to hide and suddenly she can’t do any of that, because he’s kissing her.

Her senses can’t catch up fast enough. It takes a moment to register his lips on hers, his hand cupping her cheek, the closeness of it all. Warmth floods through her, and it seems the most natural thing in the world to reach up and kiss him back just as fiercely.

 

—

 

Padme watches her family reunite with a weary smile. Luke and Leia have decided to flank Han, bringing the normally-suave pilot into the fold of their friends. She watches Evaan and Amilyn cling to each other, Jyn and Cassian using each other for support not far away. The children — though she supposes they don’t consider themselves children anymore — of the rebellion hold each other close, wiping machine oil and tears from their faces.

The crew of the ghost disembarks, Ezra rushing to embrace Ahsoka. Kanan and Hera seem to have no intention of letting go of each other any time soon, even as chopper beeps noisily at them.

As always, Padme’s handmaidens stay close to her, more out of habit than protection. Motee and Eirtae lean on each other, Rabe not far off with a proud smile splitting her lined face.

The celebrations die down as she walks forward, and it becomes clear that they’re looking to her, waiting for her to speak. Padme climbs onto the base of a supporting pillar in the hangar and looks out over them, this ragged group of hopeful people, all turning their faces toward her.

Only then does the title of general feel true. Padme Amidala has been a princess, a queen, a senator, and now something that feels heavier. She searches for words to inspire these rebels, people that had chosen her more than Naboo or the Galactic Senate ever had. Her eyes land on her children, and suddenly the words are there.

“My friends,” she starts, throat dry, “Thank you. Today was a victory for the rebellion, and a victory for all people under the Empire.” A cheer rises from the back of the crowd, and Padme smiles and laughs with them. “Our work isn’t done. We survived today so that we could fight again tomorrow. Every step we take from here on out is another step toward freedom from Palpatine and his attack dog, Vader.” Padme catches Leia’s eyes, nodding in determination. Her daughter nods back, expression dark, and Padme feels another surge of hatred for the thing that dared harm her children. Looking out over her troops, it seems that none of them have forgotten either. She musters a smile.

“The bastards can wait a night. You’ve all earned a celebration and some rest. The fight continues tomorrow. Tonight is yours.”

They cheer again, and Padme steps down to stand among her family. She chases thoughts of Vader from her mind and allows herself to laugh with them, letting the sounds of celebration grow thunderous long into the night.

 

—

 

He recognizes the smell of Tatooine before he even opens his eyes, feels the sand sift into his suit as he climbs from the wreckage of his ship.

He starts the long trudge toward where he vaguely remembers civilization to be, shaking the grit out from his boots with every step. Still, the sand manages to lodge itself in every crack of armor, scratching and grating against both his feet and his nerves.

He still hates sand.

The terrain is seemingly endless, each dune looking exactly like the next and the next and the next. The hot, dry air filling his lungs is almost comforting, warm in comparison to the Death Star’s filtered oxygen. He almost feels content with it.

_Vader._

Palpatine’s voice echoes in his mind as he walks, their Force connection faint thanks to the distance.

_Sir._

_I have a new imperative for you._

Vader’s chest goes cold at the lack of preamble. Palpatine’s words seem too calm for one whose entire fleet was recently blown to pieces.

_Find the Phantom. Assemble a team if you must. Destroy him and the Skywalker children._

_I will, sir._

Vader finds himself on a hill, looking out over a small village lit by the twin setting suns. He pulls off his helmet, throws it down on the sand, and sits.

Anakin Skywalker turns his face toward the sky of his home planet and mourns his ruined fleet, his crawling empire, and the children he will never know. White-hot hatred for the phantom grips his lungs and chokes him, for all she’s taken from him.

_Were it not for her, I could have known them. I could have raised them._

Could have been a father to them, though he dares not think it. He could have brought about a new order with his son and daughter by his side, building a new world for them.

The Phantom has condemned his children, and for that, she will die with them.

**Author's Note:**

> i'll update.


End file.
